


between the shadow and the soul

by stonedgeralt



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Wolf Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonedgeralt/pseuds/stonedgeralt
Summary: Geralt claps his hand over Jaskier’s mouth. “I think I love you,” he says quickly, “and I think you love me, too, and this is definitely something we need to talk about, but I was just a wolf for three hours, so could we perhaps save that discussion for later?”Eyes wide, Jaskier nods.“Thank you.”---Jaskier finds his soulmate, befriends a wolf, and breaks a spell.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 394
Collections: Geraskier Holiday Exchange 2020





	between the shadow and the soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [troubadore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/gifts).



> Written for Dallie, whom I love dearly and who requested wolf Geralt and a dash* of soulmates.
> 
> *This is more than a dash - more like a quart, maybe? 
> 
> Thanks to [Amanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucespringsteen) for looking this over for me ❤
> 
> Title is from "Sonnet XVII" by Pablo Neruda.

Jaskier startles awake to the fearful chittering of a flock of sparrows swooping past the mouth of the cave. He sits up with a curse and a groan, rubbing his eyes against the stark white light shining in from outside. It must have snowed overnight. 

“Wonderful,” Jaskier mutters. He lies back down and pulls his blanket up to his chin. “Too early for this nonsense.”

After five minutes, he grumbles and sits up again. He’s thoroughly awake and thoroughly irritated. Jaskier stands and, using his blanket as a makeshift cloak, shuffles to the opening, glancing briefly at Geralt’s unoccupied bedroll. Blinking against the brightness of the freshly-fallen snow, Jaskier peers out into the woods.

And yelps when he sees an enormous white wolf sitting less than fifty feet away. The blanket falls to the ground as Jaskier claps his hand over his mouth. He takes a wobbly step back, then another. 

“Geralt,” he whispers urgently, “get back here, you bastard.”

The wolf stands and shakes snow from its fur. It cocks its head curiously as it looks at Jaskier. The tip of its ear flicks when he speaks.

“Geralt, please!” Jaskier takes another step back. He risks a quick look toward Geralt’s space and sees both swords leaning against a rock. Relief washes over him - Geralt can’t be far, and Jaskier knows how to use a sword. He’s going to be fine. 

When he looks back outside, the wolf is bounding toward him. Jaskier screams and turns to run, but trips over the fallen blanket. Wheezing, he desperately crawls toward Geralt’s swords - he still can’t tell which is steel and which is silver, but he doesn’t think it matters. Just as his shaking hand wraps around the grip of the nearest sword, Jaskier hears a snort behind him, and warm breath puffs gently over his hair. Then the wolf presses its cold, wet nose to the nape of his neck.

“Eugh!” Jaskier leaps up and away from the wolf, flattening himself against the cave wall. The wolf sits down, curling its tail over its paws, and blinks its big golden eyes. They stare at each other for several minutes before Jaskier makes a move. Warily, he reaches out his hand toward the wolf, palm upturned.

“Are you... someone’s pet?” he asks slowly. “Are you lost?”

The wolf blinks. Its tail twitches slightly.

“Alright, then. Er…” Jaskier spots Geralt’s pack. “Are you hungry? Can wolves have dried meat?” He uses his foot to nudge the pack toward him. “I’m sure Geralt won’t mind. He owes me, anyway, leaving me here alone.” He rummages through the pack until he finds the roll of dried venison. “Ah. Here you go, uh, boy? I think you’re a boy. Not that it matters, I suppose.” Jaskier holds out a strip of venison, and sighs in relief when the wolf very gently takes it between its teeth. “There. Now you’ve no excuse to eat me, so it’ll be even ruder if you do.”

Jaskier sinks to the ground and wraps his arms around his knees. He looks outside. The wind has picked up, and it’s snowing heavily. The wolf noses at his elbow with a quiet huff. Jaskier swears its golden eyes are familiar.

He hasn’t encountered many wolves in his life - a few hunting trophies that adorned his childhood home, their glass eyes dull and lifeless. Once, he and Geralt had happened upon a trapped one, mottled black and gray with soft brown eyes. It had begun to gnaw at its leg to free itself. Jaskier begged Geralt to free it, and he did, stunning it with Axii and forcing the jaws of the trap open, while Jaskier held its head in his lap and stroked its ears to soothe it. A few minutes later, with Jaskier and Geralt at a safe distance, the wolf limped away without a backwards glance.

There’s a soft whine and another nudge at his elbow.

“Still hungry?” Jaskier holds out another bit of venison, but the wolf turns up its nose. “Fine, then. More for me.” He bites into it and chews thoughtfully, turning his attention toward the mouth of the cave once more. “I wonder where Geralt is,” he says. “You didn’t happen to see him, did you? White hair, yellow eyes, wears all black?”

The wolf blinks.

“Thought not. Well, I suppose I should stay here. I have to guard his things. He’d never forgive me if his swords went missing. And my boots really weren’t made to go traipsing through the snow.” Jaskier takes another bite of venison. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Maybe he went foraging, or hunting, or to gather firewood. Could be any number of things, really. But he wouldn’t leave his things if he didn’t plan on coming back for them. He could have left a note, at least.” He sighs. “Oh, well. This will give me some time to practice this new song.”

The wolf makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan.

Jaskier sighs again. “Everyone’s a critic,” he mutters. He gets to his feet and gathers up the blanket he’d dropped. Then he tucks it away with his bedroll and takes out his lute. After he’s tuned it - a warm tavern is much different than a chilly cave - he arranges his songbook on a flattish rock to read over the lyrics he’d hastily scribbled down over the past sennight.

“What do you think?” he calls to the wolf. He sings a few lines, then waits. The wolf lies down on its belly and covers its nose with one paw in a clear gesture of distaste. Jaskier frowns. “Alright, what about this?” He sings the lines again, a bit slower and in a lower octave. The wolf cocks its head and wags its tail gently, and Jaskier laughs. “Understood.” He scrawls a note in his songbook. Then he pats the ground beside him. “You can come over here, if you like. I’m fairly certain you’re not going to devour me, though I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I imagine I’m quite tasty.”

The wolf doesn’t move from its spot.

“Suit yourself.”

Jaskier continues singing and playing, stopping often to jot down notes and to scribble things out. He’s very aware of the wolf’s eyes on him, but it’s not uncomfortable. He feels safe, oddly enough, and Jaskier has no doubt that Geralt would smack him upside the head for his foolishness. 

Once more, he wonders where Geralt could possibly have gone. A pit settles in his stomach, and eventually the sense of unease makes it impossible to concentrate on his music. Jaskier stands and paces the cave, hands folded behind his back as he considers the possibilities.

Bandits? Jaskier would have heard them - he’s a light sleeper.

Monsters? Geralt left his swords.

Foraging? Hunting? He also left his pack and his knife.

Another thought occurs to him, then, and Jaskier shakes his head quickly. But it sticks, like a bur on a wool coat, until he can’t think of anything else.

“What if…” He shakes his head again. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

The wolf lifts its head and looks at him. Its expression seems almost concerned.

Jaskier sits on the floor of the cave and leans back against a rock. “What if he left on purpose?” he whispers. “Because of… because of what happened?”

Whining quietly, the wolf stands and approaches him. It lies down next to him, settling against his side, and looks at Jaskier expectantly.

“I suppose I should fill you in,” Jaskier says. “About a fortnight ago, Geralt accepted a contract on a griffin - no, an archgriffin. I don’t really know the difference. Anyway, he was injured rather seriously, and—”

He pauses. “Maybe I should go back further. When I was a child, I constantly whined about aches and pains. I was stuck in bed for days at a time, nearly delirious with it. My governess said I was a spoiled attention seeker, and I went through more tutors than I could count. I can’t really blame them, though. They never could have guessed that my soulmate is a witcher, given what they’d been taught.” Jaskier laughs. “I mean, it took _me_ fifteen years to put it together. I’d read somewhere that a witcher’s soulbond was severed during the trial. Given what I’ve learned about witchers from Geralt, it shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize that soulbond thing was nonsense. Gods, I’m stupid.”

The wolf gently licks the back of Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier smiles and scratches behind its ear.

“When Geralt was injured by the archgriffin,” he continues, “I felt it. It was like an axe blade in my belly. I thought my ale had been poisoned. I thought… I thought I was dying. So did all the other tavern patrons. But then Geralt stumbled into the tavern, holding his stomach and bleeding everywhere. It didn’t hit me right then, but later, I realized. It all made sense, and it was so clear. Geralt is my soulmate. And I was _so_ excited to tell him! But he…” Jaskier sighs, and his hand stills in the wolf’s fur. “I told him I understood, but I didn’t. I still don’t. Fifteen years I’ve been by his side, and he couldn’t even look at me after I told him. And now he’s gone.”

Jaskier’s chest is tight. His eyes prickle with tears, but he blinks them away, shaking his head furiously. 

“It’s not fair,” he says, wincing when his voice breaks. “I just want… I want to be with him. I’ve wanted that since I met him. I remember how I felt when I saw him, like everyone else disappeared and it was only _him_. That probably should’ve been a sign…”

A gust of wind whistles through the cave, carrying with it a small flurry of snow. Jaskier shivers. The wolf shifts closer, curling its body around Jaskier. It rests its chin on his knee with a soft sigh. Jaskier smiles, then shivers again as his body adjusts to the sudden warmth. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, absently stroking the wolf’s ears. He’s quiet for a while, focused on watching the snow swirl in the wind outside the cave. The wolf’s thick fur acts as an insulator, and soon Jaskier is toasty warm, as if he were sitting beside a blazing fire. The wolf’s eyes are closed, but its ears and tail twitch in response to every sound.

Jaskier is grateful for the wolf’s presence - strange as it sounds, he feels better after sharing his thoughts, even though he knows the wolf couldn’t possibly understand him. He’s heard that animals can sense emotions, and he’s seen evidence of it in Roach. She’s always more docile when Geralt’s in a particularly foul mood, sticking close to him, nudging him gently with her nose when he’s too quiet. Jaskier has seen the way Geralt softens around the mare, the hint of a smile when she snuffles at his hair, the whispered conversations he has with her when he thinks Jaskier is out of earshot. He’d thought it silly, at first, that Geralt would waste his time conversing with an animal when Jaskier was right there. 

But he thinks he understands, now. 

“Thanks,” Jaskier says again. “I know you don’t know what that means, but you’re a good listener, and I’m grateful.” He leans down and presses a kiss between the wolf’s ears. “Maybe Geralt will—” Jaskier stops abruptly when the wolf jerks and whines. He clambers to his feet, moving away quickly. Thick gray smoke rises from the wolf’s fur; it quickly fills the cave until it blocks Jaskier’s view. Bright sparks burst and dance within the smoke, and the air crackles with energy. Suddenly, everything goes silent.

Jaskier doesn’t move. “What the fuck?” he whispers. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

Someone coughs, and Jaskier jumps and stumbles back into the cave wall.

“Jaskier?”

The voice is quiet and hoarse, but Jaskier would know it anywhere. He sobs in relief, then rushes forward, waving away the vestiges of smoke until he can finally see. His voice is thick and shaky when he says Geralt’s name. Jaskier falls to his knees and wraps his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” he murmurs. “I was so worried. I thought… No, I’m not even going to say it.” He leans back and starts his routine injury check, usually reserved for when Geralt returns from a hunt. “Do you need a healer? You look fine, but you can never be too careful. I have to say, I’m surprised you’re not naked. That would make the most sense, right? Gods, did you have your medallion on? Did I not see it? That’s embarrassing. Are you hungry? You didn’t have much to eat. I can whip something up while you recover. I can’t wait to hear— mmph!”

Jaskier’s hands fall limply to his side as Geralt kisses him. It’s not a particularly good kiss - it’s rather shit, actually - but Jaskier can’t find the energy to be upset about it. Something inside him has started singing, and he feels like his chest is about to split open, like his heart is close to bursting. When Geralt pulls away, Jaskier smothers the urge to grab a fistful of his hair and yank him back. 

His eyes finally focus again, and he sees that Geralt is grinning at him. Jaskier raises an eyebrow.

“What was that for?” he asks. “Some lingering magic got you confused?”

“What? No, I—” Geralt shakes his head. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“You’ve wanted to… kiss me,” Jaskier says slowly. 

“Yeah.” Geralt gives a hesitant smile, and his eyes watch Jaskier intently for a reaction.

Jaskier sits back on his haunches. “Oh.” He catches himself and adds, “It’s not you, I just… Why now? You certainly didn’t feel this way a fortnight ago. What changed?”

“Everything,” Geralt answers earnestly, and Jaskier bites back a gasp. “When you barged into the room at the tavern to announce that we were soulmates, it was almost too much to handle. I was in pain, and when you said you’d been experiencing my pain your whole life, it…”

Jaskier takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t even think about that,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“No,” Geralt says firmly. “You have no reason to be. I’m no wordsmith, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for how I reacted. I didn’t give you a chance. I didn’t want to listen. But now that I’ve heard how you feel, that you want to be with me, I want to tell you—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaskier says, putting his hands up. “You could understand me? When I was telling the wolf - er, you - about everything?”

“Every word,” Geralt replies. “But Jaskier, I want to say—”

“And how did the spell - or curse, or whatever - break? Was it something I said? Something I did?”

Geralt sighs. “It happened when you kissed my head. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is—”

“The smoke, and the sparks - we have to figure this—”

Geralt claps his hand over Jaskier’s mouth. “I think I love you,” he says quickly, “and I think you love me, too, and this is definitely something we need to talk about, but I was just a wolf for three hours, so could we perhaps save that discussion for later?”

Eyes wide, Jaskier nods.

“Thank you.” Geralt takes his hand away.

They sit in silence for several minutes. Jaskier notices that the wind outside has died down, and when he glances toward the mouth of the cave, he can see blue sky and sunshine. Geralt, meanwhile, examines his fingernails and does his very best not to look at Jaskier.

“So,” Jaskier finally says. “You love me, huh?”

Geralt’s face flushes. “I said I _think_ so,” he mumbles. 

“Well, that kiss could’ve fooled me. It was awful.”

“Oh, come on—”

“We’re _soulmates,_ Geralt. I expect a bit more effort in the future.” Jaskier gives him a sidelong glance and grins.

Geralt adopts a serious tone. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

After a beat, Geralt reaches out and takes Jaskier’s hand. Warmth radiates from Jaskier’s palm up to his shoulder. “I really am sorry,” Geralt murmurs.

Jaskier leans against Geralt’s side and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. He feels Geralt shiver. “You’re forgiven,” he answers. “We’ll figure this out.”

Geralt squeezes his hand. “If you wanted to work on that song from earlier,” he says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Maybe later,” Jaskier replies, hiding his smile against Geralt’s neck. “I’m happy just like this.

“Me, too.”

“Besides,” Jaskier continues, “I have a new song to work on. Picture this: A brave witcher is transformed into a ferocious wolf and has to enlist the help of a dashing bard to break the spell.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“I _never_ joke about my work, Geralt. However, I’ll respect your request to postpone the whole wolf discussion, since it’s the polite and professional thing to do.”

Geralt grunts. “Should’ve pissed on your songbook while I had an excuse.”

“ _Geralt!_ ”

\---

When the snow finally melts below Jaskier’s knees, he and Geralt make their way back to the village. While Geralt updates the alderman about the contract he’s been working on, Jaskier plans to take the hottest bath his body can stand. However, they’re both equally surprised to find Yennefer waiting for them in the tavern. She smiles when she sees the two of them, and smiles wider when she notices something that’s evident only to her. They sit across from her, ignoring the curious glances of the other patrons.

“Gentlemen,” she says in greeting. “You’re both well, I hope?”

“Exceptionally,” Jaskier says. “What brings you here?”

“Just checking in.” Yennefer’s violet eyes glitter even in the dim light of the tavern. “I heard Geralt recently had a rather eventful day, hm?”

Jaskier narrows his eyes. “Wait,” he says. “You…”

Yennefer shakes her head. “No, not me. But Geralt told me what happened. He asked if I’d look into it.”

“When did you find time to tell her?” Jaskier asks, turning to Geralt.

“She gave me a charm,” Geralt says, “that lets me contact her. I thought this warranted it.”

“I’ve already found some leads,” Yennefer says. She slides a small scrap of parchment across the table, and Geralt tucks it into his pocket. “You can track them down and handle the rest.” She steeples her fingers and grins. “So how long was he a wolf?” 

“About three hours,” Jaskier says slowly. “Why?”

Yennefer laughs. “Spells like this usually last about a day,” she replies. “But I’m guessing you kissed him, right?”

“Er, yes, but not—”

“Relax, bard, I’m not insinuating anything.” 

“Fine, but what does it matter that I kissed him?”

Yennefer blinks. “A bard who hasn’t heard the tales of true love’s kiss. Incredible.”

Geralt finally looks up from the table. “What?” 

“Ah. I believe that’s my cue to leave.” Yennefer stands gracefully and nods at Geralt, then Jaskier, who are both too busy staring at each other to notice. “Fools,” she says, her tone fond. Then she strides out of the tavern, effectively wiping her hands of the mess.

“So you do love me,” Geralt says. His voice is very quiet.

“Evidently,” Jaskier answers. He’s slumped in his chair, close to spilling out of it and onto the floor. 

“You broke a spell with it.” Geralt laughs in disbelief. “You love me so much that you broke a spell.”

“That’s been established, yes.” Jaskier is tempted to pinch himself, on the off chance that the last two days had been a dream. But despite this earth-shattering revelation, he’s rather content with how things have played out.

“How long did we rent our room for?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier looks at him in confusion. “Today is our last day,” he says.

Geralt leans in close and murmurs, “I think I’d like a kissing lesson before we have to leave.”

“O-Oh.” Jaskier swallows thickly. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Geralt stands, pulling Jaskier up with him. “We could multitask,” he says innocently, “and have a bath at the same time.”

Jaskier wheezes. “Yeah,” he croaks, “I suppose we could do that. But we should probably talk about all of this afterward.”

“Deal.”

\---

It’s well into the night before they find time to talk. They’ve paid the innkeep for another two days, plus a bit extra for all of the noise. They both shed more than a few tears, but Jaskier thinks it’s worth it. He knows Geralt more intimately now than he ever could have imagined he would, and Geralt knows things that Jaskier has never told another living soul. They still have ground to cover, lost time to regain, but their bond is strong and secure. 

Jaskier sleeps soundly with Geralt curled around him beneath their blankets.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on Twitter [@stonedgeralt](https://twitter.com/stonedgeralt)!


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